


mcwexler (soft)

by jholtzmann



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28006089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jholtzmann/pseuds/jholtzmann
Summary: just a selection of soft scenes for these beautiful dummies bc they deserve it
Relationships: Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman/Kim Wexler
Comments: 13
Kudos: 50





	1. property pages

Jimmy wakes slowly. Kim is already up, sitting comfortably against the headboard next to him, reading. Jimmy had been about to swat a manila folder of paperwork from her hands before his bleary eyes register she’s reading the newspaper. Must be yesterdays. He hums a greeting.

There’s a smile in her voice as Kim replies. "Hey." Jimmy can’t be sure whether she’s glanced his way, his head still too heavy on the pillow and his eyes too slow to focus. 

" _Appropriate_ reading," he speaks into the pillow. 

"Couldn’t risk another file meeting a gruesome fate," the smile was still there, he could hear it. "Most of it was finished last night. The rest can wait." Despite the late night, he is delighted to hear those words, relieved even. He hears her turn a page.

"Six across, nine letters: location of the signing of the Magna Car-" Jimmy does swat the paper away now and the sentence devolves into laughter as he proclaims _fuck the Magna Carta!_ into the pillow. His attempts to both wrest the paper away and launch it across the room only results in Kim successfully maintaining her hold on it, lifting it slightly above shoulder height and successfully out of Jimmy’s grasp.

"Okay - okay!" 

"Property." He requests, scrubbing his eyes and finally lifting himself vaguely upright. Kim hums as she flicks through the pages.

"Here we go - luxurious home in a gated compound, featuring a centre pivot glass front door, ooh four fireplaces, because that’s necessary -"

"You never know when that Cicero winter is going to migrate, could be any year now." He thinks for a second. "Uh, two point...eight."

"Nope. Three point _five_." Jimmy makes a noise of disappointment.

Kim continues reading through the outrageous property descriptions as Jimmy stretches and eventually clambers out of bed. "Coffee?" 

She nods, a small inclination of the chin, eyes smoothly flicking up to Jimmy and back down as she skips through the pages.

“A sweeping stone staircase guides the eye to a trio of chandeliers, hung from the _decorative ceiling_ -”

“Well if it’s not decorative what’s the point!” He calls from the kitchen.

“- above the ornate foyer -”  
  
“What’s the difference between decorative and ornate?”  
  
“Well one’s for the ceiling and one’s for the foyer, _obviously_ ,” She drawls, continuing. “This estate will take your breath away with expansive views of its gardens and surrounds. Includes,” she scans the article, “tennis court, pool, home gym, theatre room -”

“Does the theatre room have a popcorn machine? Because if not it’s clearly a rip off.”

“Clearly. Uh, it doesn’t specify and there’s no picture so I guess they skimped out on the popcorn maker.”

“Ugh, cheapskates. Next!”

Jimmy returns with two steaming mugs of coffee, handing one off to Kim then climbing back under the covers as she reads out more purple prose. 

The morning light rises through the window, the warm yellow of the streetlights and desert dawn becoming pale and luminous as it creeps along the bed towards the opposite wall. Comfortable silence envelops them as they sip their coffee and Jimmy savours the feeling, the warmth seeping through the mug and into his curled palms, the warmth he can feel from Kim, the way it radiates from her though they are not quite touching. He listens to Kim's breath, soft and steady in the morning calm, the way it skates across her coffee as she tries to cool it.

Kim places the newspaper between them, swapping it for a book, and Jimmy takes the offering, splaying the paper over his lap, absently skimming the pages. He briefly thinks about attempting the crossword before remembering how the morning had started. 

Instead, Jimmy fills the space between them with idle chatter as they wallow in the lazy morning, making mostly hypothetical plans for the day ahead. Kim hums to each suggestion, playing along occasionally between sips of coffee and silent reading. 

When he reaches the sports pages he reads out the entire golfing section before proclaiming, “So there you go. Be sure to tell Kevin that.”  
  
“Wow. Thanks.” 

“Kim, don’t you know? Golfing knowledge is the only way to impress a man.” 

She turns to him, brows raised, “Oh is it?” 

“Well, now,” he raises his hands in mock surrender and looks back down towards the paper, suppressing a laugh, “I mean - don’t ask _me_.”

“No, no, Jimmy, tell me - what’s _your_ favourite part of golf?” Her sparkling eyes watch him for a moment.

“Oh, definitely the little buggies? The golf carts! Gotta be those. You can get into some real mischief with one of those.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“You kiddin’ me?! Like quad biking over dunes - just, much slower, and greener, which, y’know depending on your persuasion might be nicer I guess.” 

“And the game?”

“I guess that’s alright. Those clubs though, very useful,”

“Uh-huh,”  
  
“Yeah, uh, reaching high objects…”  
  
“Jaunty walking stick,”  
  
“Obviously. Recreate a little Charlie Chaplin moment. I hear they’re actually great if you want to conduct electricity - really catch a bolt of lightning with one of those.”  
  
“Oh, of course.”  
  
“Y’know, like, uh - Benjamin Franklin! Very effective against windshields, too - ”

“Headlights.”  
  
“Well now, Kim, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Neither would I.”

“Right. You just, y’know, the news, movies -”

“Exactly, the things you see on TV sometimes.”

Jimmy scans the last few pages of the newspaper before tossing it down on the bedspread and reaching for the last dregs of his cooled coffee. As he sips he sways a leg underneath the covers, his knee just brushing Kim’s. Out of the corner of his eye he can tell she's suppressing a small smile as a muscle tenses in her cheek. He does it again.

“Can I help you?” She asks lightly, as though he can’t hear the laughter bubbling under her words.

“Hm?” He peers at her over the top of his now empty mug, feigning ignorance. She huffs a laugh through her nose, lips turning into a definite smile now, and bundles her knees up towards her chest, keeping her book propped against them.

“I’m _reading_.”

“I can see that.” Her eyebrows raise as her smile curls tightly. Jimmy stares at her, taking in her profile, the way the muscle in her cheek flexes and flutters, the gentle golden strands that rest on her shoulders, only a loose curve left in them from the day before. Not one for distraction, Kim continues her focus on the page before her, though Jimmy knows she knows he’s watching. He stretches out his leg one more time, his knee knocking into her ankle now. She laughs silently and turns the page. Jimmy tries weakly to suppress his grin, unable and unwilling to ignore the happiness running riot in his chest. He has no idea how he'd gotten lucky enough to be here, be deemed worthy by Kim Wexler and allowed to be so close, to drink her in like this.

A moment later she closes the book and turns to him.

“Good book?” He asks innocently.

“Hm, I’ll let you know when I get a chance to reread those last 3 pages.” She’s smiling at him. He watches her glittering eyes flick downwards and his grin turns knowing. “Shut up.”

Before he can contemplate an answer she leans in, one hand rising to splay warm fingers against his jaw as she pulls him in for a kiss. He hums against her lips, shifting closer, moving the abandoned book out of their way before fitting his palm to her waist. She pulls back, smiling, and strokes the pad of her thumb against the sensitive corner of his lips.

“Well,” she stretches, wiggling out of his grip, “better get up.”

A shocked noise escapes Jimmy’s throat as he watches Kim slide out of bed and stretch, bare arms lifting, the hem of her already rumpled tank top rising further up her belly.

“Wh - I - _Kim_ ,” he stares up at her.

She holds his gaze, quashing a smirk. “I’m gonna have a shower.”

It takes a moment for her meaning to sink into his stunned brain. And then there’s a flurry of blankets as he leaps out of bed and a laughter filled yelp as he curls an arm around her waist, ushering her into the bathroom. He can't help his grin as Kim's laughter bounces off the tiled walls, muffled only slightly as the sound of water fills the room.


	2. christmas

“Hey!” Jimmy kicks the door closed behind him, tossing his keys into the bowl as he makes his way into the living room.

Kim is sitting on the floor next to the coffee table, pouring over a Blockbuster haul that takes up most of the table's surface.

“Hey,” she clicks a DVD cover closed and looks up, “what’d you get?”

Jimmy shuffles through the bags in his hands, the plastic grips shifting across his palms as he peers into each one. 

“We got - Mongolian beef, green curry,” the next bag, “spicy fried rice, mango salad, spring rolls, pork buns” the third, “cheeseburgers, fries, and -” the last one, “Thai iced tea, and not to forget,” he raises the bag for emphasis, “milkshakes.” 

Kim levels him with a serious expression. “Do you think it’s enough?” 

“I think if we ration it we might just make it.”

“This must be what George Bailey felt like.” 

“Oh, _uncanny_ \- are you kidding me?” Jimmy replies as he makes his way to the kitchen, “George Bailey and uh, Tiny Tim.” He puts the iced tea in the fridge and unbags the rest of the food on the counter, ferrying half of it across to the coffee table. “No - wait! Oliver! _Please sir, may I have some more?_ ” He pitches his voice higher, sounding not too dissimilar from his old answerphone message as he holds their food aloft, balanced on top of two plates. 

“Just a couple of sad Dickensian children.”  
  
“And a handsome, if lanky, fellow called Jimmy.” Kim makes a face. “What, you think Jimmy Stewart isn’t a handsome fella?”  
  
“I didn’t say that. George Bailey is not Jimmy Stewart, you don’t get to claim him.”

Jimmy finishes setting down all the food, making room on the table for the various containers. Kim has moved from the floor to the sofa, and he settles down next to her. “What’ve we got?”

She shuffles the DVD cases in her palms. “We’ve got Jaws 2, Life of Brian, or…” she flips around the last case, “Alien.”

“The Christmas spirit is alive and well in this house tonight.” 

“The _most_ festive.” She looks at him for an answer, putting down the DVDs to reach for a fry.

“Well, obviously,” he shrugs, palms upwards in a gesture of disbelief, “ _Jaws 2_. Gotta get to that glorious 3D somehow. And I’m sure the plot of two is really vital to three.”

“Oh, absolutely. It’s very important. The emotional payoff? It’ll blow your mind.” Kim pops another couple of fries into her mouth as she gets up to put the DVD on. 

*

By the end of the movie cold scraps of fries and burgers are scrunched up in paper wrappers next to the half eaten green curry and rice. The pork buns are long gone, and they pick at the mango salad and spring rolls as they move on to _Alien_. 

“Something about Sigourney stuck in that ship really feels like Christmas, don’t you think?” 

“Why do you think it was on the list?”

“You Ripley in this situation?”

“Does that make you the cat?”

*

The meagre leftovers are in the fridge by the time they’re listing Roman achievements and Jimmy gives his best Pontius Pilot, sending Kim into fits of laughter.

“ _Siwence_! What is awl this _insowence_!” He crows, trying to hold himself up as Kim slaps his arm, unable to form words for a second before gasping, “You _have to stop_.”

He leans into her, her shoulder pressing into his upper arm. “Kim. Do you find it - _wisible_?” 

His face is so close to hers he can see the faint blush of pink across her cheeks. She swats him with the back of her hand again, pretending to return her focus to the screen, but her giggles are untempered.

*

Sometime in the late afternoon they drift off, the blanket from the back of the sofa draped over both of them, their warm bodies leaning heavily into one another. Kim’s head is tucked against the front of his shoulder, Jimmy’s head just shy of resting against her hair. Little golden flyaways tickle his cheek. 

The sound of electric guitar kicks in on the TV and Kim opens her eyes to realise they’ve missed most of _Withnail and I_. She shifts forward, reaching for an almost drained iced tea, tapping the plastic cup with sleep soft fingertips until it turns into her grip, and sips the last room temperature dregs before sitting up a little more to watch the end of the film. She wiggles her other arm out from under Jimmy to reverse their position, slinging it over his shoulders, letting his head fall against her jaw. Eyes still fixed on the screen she absently turns to brush her lips against his bangs, light enough to not disturb him. 

*

The next time Kim opens her eyes the living room is bathed in a deep orange glow and Jimmy is beneath her. They’re stretched out on the sofa, his chest under her head, a warm arm firm against her lower back. Across the room the television is dark except for the bouncing logo of the DVD screensaver, the last film already forgotten. She lifts her head slightly to look up at him.

“Jimmy,” she moves a hand to his chest, presses it just above where her chin rests.

“Mmph.” He takes a sharp breath in, shifting into something closer to wakefulness. “Yeah?”

Kim begins to lift herself off him, against the weight of the arm at her back. Jimmy takes a deep breath in, his exhale disrupting the stray hairs around her face.

“Jimmy,” she reaches for the hand at her back, laces their fingers together. She slowly, awkwardly, stands from the sofa, guiding him with their joined hands. “Bed. Come on.” 

He makes sleepy noises of protest but moves readily under her touch as they shuffle with soft footsteps into the bedroom. 

They slip into bed fully clothed and curl into each other as the cold bed warms up. Jimmy’s hands lazily wrap around Kim’s waist again, one warm palm slipping under her shirt, pressed flush against the soft skin there. His body shifts under her, muscles relaxing as sleep easily overtakes him again. The hand under her shirt is heavy, the point of contact grounding them both. And then it tenses, and his chin grazes the top of her head as he tries to look down at her.

“Kim,” his voice is already rough with sleep.

“Mm?”

He pushes his head back into the pillow, the fabric crinkling around him. “We didn’t have dessert.” 

She snorts and smiles against his chest, his t-shirt creasing softly under her cheek. “We can have ice cream for breakfast.”

“With sprinkles.”

“Mhm.” 

The covers rustle as he shifts again, placing a kiss against her hair, soft and golden and warm.


	3. shopping list

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all literally asked for this, i don't wanna hear it

“Hey,” he greets her as soon as she picks up. “I’m at the supermarket - we need anything?”

“Hey Jimmy, uh, hold on -” he hears a rustling noise as she moves through the apartment, he imagines her padding around in socked feet, sliding to a stop in front of the fridge to check the list. “Uh, you got trash bags?”

“Yeah - are they yours or mine?”

“I remember you saying something about storage at the nail salon?”

“Right! Yes. We need any for the kitchen?”

“Um,” she pauses to look, “Nup, we’re all good.”

He lists off everything already in the basket, there’s not much. “Is that everything?”

Kim’s been humming along as he rattles off items, a verbal tick of approval. “Mm, yeah, looks like everything.”

“Okay, great. Anything extra you want me to grab?”

“No, I can’t think of anything. Thanks, Jimmy.”

“You sure? I’m almost done, so if you want anything tell me now,” he trails off in a sing-song, using the time to search his brain for anything he might have forgotten. 

“Jimmy.” His name is a complete sentence, but it’s not harsh. It’s the softest thing he’s ever heard, and it never ceases to amaze him. “Really, I’m good. I don’t need anything.”

“Yeah, but do you _want_ anything?” 

She makes a sound that is half sigh, half laugh. It crackles a little through the phone. “I don’t know, Jimmy. Surprise me.”


	4. heatwave

“Hey! I’ve got dinner!” Jimmy calls out into the apartment. 

Kim's voice sounds distant and heavy with exhaustion. “No, Jimmy - it’s too hot.” 

He looks up to see her lying on the sofa, bare feet kicked up and blouse untucked, an arm slung across her eyes. She hasn’t even changed out of her work skirt. 

“I got that cold noodle salad from the Thai place. And iced tea.” 

At that Kim lowers her arm to peer over at him, her mouth turning into a thoughtful pout. “Okay. Good choice.”

She props herself up on an elbow and swings her legs around until she’s sitting upright. Jimmy kicks off his shoes at the edge of the sofa and puts the bags of food on the table, briefly disappearing to the kitchen to grab some proper cutlery and bowls.

“Thought you could use a meal, even in this heat,” he says as he hands her a bowl, as if the action might distract from the words, the casual concern hidden in them. 

She smiles a tight lipped smile that is almost a frown and silently accepts both. 

He flops down next to her, leaving just enough space so they’re not touching, and grabs the container she offers him.

“It’s like the tenth circle of hell or something out there!” 

“Surprised the Esteem made it,” Kim replies through a mouthful of salad.

“So was I! I swear it was about to burst into flames a couple of times,” he takes a sip of his iced tea. “But the Esteem can survive anything, apparently.” 

They eat in relative silence, Jimmy sporadically chatting about his day and the heat, but the oppressive warmth makes even his words lethargic at the edges. Kim listens, grateful that he hasn’t asked for her participation yet, she knows he’s letting her off the hook for now, letting her rest in the heat for awhile. 

After a few moments silence descends once more, and as Jimmy splits the remaining salad between them he glances over to her.

“So, how was it?” 

“Mm, I doubt anything much got done. Kevin postponed all his games for the entire afternoon apparently.” Her elbow is pressed into the back of the sofa, head propped up in her hand. 

“Wow, the old boy can’t take the desert.” 

For all their status as implants in Albuquerque, neither of them were too concerned about the heat. Too many bitter midwest winters had settled a chill in their bones that still, more than a decade on, wasn’t completely thawed by the desert heat. The current heatwave might have slowed them down a little, but it didn’t stop them. 

“Apparently not.”

“Cancelling tee time? It’s basically the end of the world! Alert the press!” 

She raises her eyebrows, “Yeah, it’s pretty _dire_.” She rolls her eyes and scoffs at the absurdity of it, shifting to rest her cheek against her knuckles. “God, imagine if we just up and cancelled a day of work - because of the _weather_.”

“Oh well you forget, Kim, we are just the underlings on which they tread - without the luxury of doing business at our lofty _country club_. Not yet, at least!” He holds up his fork to punctuate the sentence. “When we have our own country club we’ll cancel as many days as we like, for no reason at all,” he returns his fork to twist up the remaining salad. Kim snorts softly and shakes her head. 

*

After dinner Jimmy collects the empty containers and bowls. Kim, having finally recuperated enough energy to get out of her work clothes takes a shower. The sound of it fuzzes in the background like television static, and Jimmy is mindful of it as he rinses their dishes and leaves them in the sink for later. 

The shower is cool but not cold, just enough to be pleasantly refreshing. Kim closes her eyes and tilts her head up into the water, she can feel rogue droplets disturb the strands of hair escaping the bun on top of her head. 

“You done?” 

She swings around, wiping the water from her eyes, to see Jimmy walking towards her, his shirt already half over his head. 

“Jimmy -” she warns, hesitating, as if there’s any ambiguity to his actions. He grins at her, an absolute preposterous mask of innocence, and keeps getting closer.

“What?” He splays his arms wide - innocent _and_ dumb. 

“ _Jimmy_ -” but she’s laughing now as she holds out a wet hand in a vain attempt to slow him. 

“Yeah? What? It’s not too hot in here,” he steps into the water completely and Kim let’s out a tiny shriek. “It’s quite nice in fact - very cool." There’s laughter creeping into his voice, too.

“I’m showering, Jimmy.”

“So am I.”

“And that’s _all_.” She fixes him with a glare. 

“Hey, I don’t appreciate your insinuation there counsellor.”

“Oh really?”

“I am merely trying to conserve water - a much needed resource in this ongoing heatwave.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” 

“Hand on heart!” He slaps a watery hand against his bare chest.

“Okay. Well, enjoy your _conservation_.” And she grins as she steps around him and out of the shower.

*

Later that night they lie in bed, the heat pressing down on them like a blanket. Jimmy turns over, facing the middle of the bed, and without opening her eyes Kim mumbles into the pillow, “Don’t touch me.”

He grins even though she can’t see it. “I wasn’t gonna!”

“‘Kay.” It’s sleepy, her voice slightly deeper than usual. He looks at her for a moment before closing his eyes again, the soft golden curls that fall in a tangle across her pillow, split over either side of her bare shoulder. Despite the heat she’s still folded in on herself, one hand curled up against her chest. Then the weight of the heat settles over him and his eyes fall closed. 

When Jimmy wakes up in the middle of the night, Kim’s feet are tangled with his, her toes cold against him. He cracks his eyes open just enough to look over to her. Through his lashes he sees before he feels that the back of her hand is resting a hair's breadth away from his own. Now that he’s seen it he can feel the warmth radiating off her skin, feels the faintest brush of her knuckles against his own as his sleep logged brain slowly processes the sensation. The covers have slipped down and the plane of her exposed side almost glows in the soft light coming through the window. Jimmy tries to move as smoothly as possible as he reaches over and pulls the cover back up over her shoulder, shuffling a little closer, just enough that their hands are properly touching. Kim snuffles slightly, her hand twisting into his. 

Jimmy can’t help but murmur, “You said no touching.” 

“Mm, shut up.” She flexes her fingers in his grip, uses the leverage to pull herself just a fraction closer. “Not touching.” Her arm brushes against his. “‘S too hot.” 

Jimmy feels the warmth pooling between them. In the morning they may wake up on opposite sides of the bed, may need another shower before starting the day. But for now Jimmy closes his eyes, feeling the weight of Kim’s warm palm in his own, and falls back to sleep. 


End file.
